


Alone

by Satine86



Series: Lace Smut [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated the Western Approach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Interlude, because ORILLIAORANGE wanted something with Varric, alone and "plotting" in the Western Approach.

He hated the Western Approach. 

This was his second trip out to the desert wasteland, and it hadn’t honestly changed much aside from a nice addition of Darkspawn. The first time, when they had scouted for camps and secured the Keep, it had been… oh, fine, it had been _just_ as terrible as the second time, but with one key difference. 

Cassandra had been part of the group. 

So while the place was hot and unwelcoming and you never got the sand out of your boots. There had been the pleasant sight of Cassandra, her cheeks flushed and skin glistening with sweat as they traipsed over endless sand dunes. 

It had been such a fucking turn on. It made him think all sorts of impure thoughts while they fended off quillbacks and spiders and venatori; things he enjoyed showing her later when they were alone in their tent together. 

Now, unfortunately, he was stuck with Tiny and Hero… and they sweated, but it was decidedly less sexy. And far more smelly.

Worst of all was the fact that he couldn’t get Cassandra out of his mind. He missed her, Maker did he miss her, and all he could do was remember the last time he’d been there. With her. In the tent. 

The noises she had made, face pressed against his neck to muffle her moans as he fucked her. Those thoughts haunted him late at night, when he was alone and everything is quiet save Tiny’s snores from the next tent over. 

It’s those thoughts that drive him to think about when he’ll see her again, about what he’ll do when he returns. He thought about her legs, long and smooth and strong, and how they feel wrapped around his waist. He thought about her heady scent when she was wet and wanting; about how she fucking tasted. 

He fantasized about the sounds she made, mewling cries when he hit that right spot, deep inside. Sounds no one ever heard but him. That alone made him hard. His mind drifted over all the delicious things he would do to make her scream and pant and shiver. He wasn’t exactly proud of his thoughts, obscene as they were, but he couldn’t help it. Nor could he help the fact that those fantasies were what brought him to his current state. 

It was late, the moon riding high in the sky, and even though Hero was sprawled out on the bedroll next to him, Varric had decided to take care of certain matters. 

He had been hard, painfully so, and he had _needed_ release. And so he did the only thing he could do: he rolled onto his side and quickly undid the laces on his breeches, spit into his hand and grabbed his cock. 

Varric tried to pretend it was Cassandra’s mouth, her surprisingly soft lips wrapped around him instead of his hand. It didn’t work too well when there was no warmth, no deft tongue darting out and circling his tip. So instead he thought about _his_ mouth on _her_ , fucking her with his tongue until she was aching for him, moaning his name. 

He squeezed his cock, hand moving a little quicker as he thought about that fucking ridiculous red lace, and the way she had sucked him off. He could picture her, clinging to him and crying his name. His hand started pumping faster. 

All he wanted was to fuck her and kiss her and be with her. All he wanted was to hear moaning and sobbing and urging him on as she climaxed, dripping wet and shuddering around him. His hand worked furiously, arm tensed as he sought release, eyes shut tight as he pictured Cassandra, naked and wanting. _Begging_ for him.

The build of heat was nearly unbearable, his body tensed and he came hard, biting back a curse. His hips rutted haplessly against his hand, cum spilling over his fingers and onto his bedroll.

Behind him Hero snuffled in his sleep, shifted, but didn’t wake up. Varric plucked an extra shirt from his pack and cleaned up as best he could, stuffed himself back into his trousers. He rolled onto his back, arm flung over his eyes as his heart rate slowed back to normal. 

Maker, this was going to be a long trip.


End file.
